BEEP— BEEP— BEEP—.

An error alarm rang out in repeated bursts.

Researchers, fully kitted in protective suits and gear, reported in tense voices.

"Third attempt failed. Confirmed as an error — even forced measurement is impossible."

On a monitor to one side, a waveform none of them had ever seen was being drawn. Fear spread through the researchers.

Ham Ji-wol, the Analysis Bureau Chief who’d been checking the readings, quickly looked at Kwak Hanmuk.

Kwak Hanmuk waved his hand to signal that he was maintaining the Bind properly.

Ham Ji-wol cautiously approached ’it’ and replaced the attached patch.

As if handling radioactive material.

’Honestly, radioactive material would’ve been easier.’

Kwak Hanmuk thought that as he stared through the window.

A murderous atmosphere churned, but the subject at its center remained calm.

The man, bound tightly in the bead rosary and sleeping peacefully, seemed a step removed from the chaos surrounding him.

Kwak Hanmuk rolled the beads of his rosary on his wrist out of habit.

His rosary was a defensive-type item.

Made of zelkova wood and imbued with the energy of lightning, the rosary could extend freely and even detach within a certain range.

It was most suited for restraining and subduing a target, but Kwak Hanmuk had used it offensively through all sorts of unorthodox methods.

He rarely used the binding and subduing that were the zelkova wood rosary’s fundamental purpose.

The reason was simple. It wasn’t fun.

But what about earlier?

"Hanmuk. Bind."

The moment Mo Haein’s words fell, he fired off the Bind without a second thought.

It was a movement commanded by instinct. The feeling of that moment — moving on pure intuition without passing through reason — was still vivid.

"Haein. What the hell did you pick up?"

Kwak Hanmuk shook his head as he spoke, and Mo Haein immediately shot back.

"I didn’t pick him up. He appeared in front of me."

Mo Haein, who had filed reports to her superiors without a break, looked haggard. But her eyes were sharp.

The only thing sustaining her now was the euphoria of having permanently closed a Trial with a True Ending.

"Is he human?"

"...I don’t know."

In the moment Park Seonggyeon’s head burst into golden fragments, Mo Haein had witnessed it clearly.

The change that occurred in ’its’ pupils.

It was something that couldn’t happen if it were human.

Currently, all personnel at the TRA were scrambling to investigate the being called ’Han Goyo.’

Samra would start their investigation soon, so that thing could be analyzed too.

Whether it was an infected entity contaminated by the Trial’s virus, or a non-human being.

In truth, Mo Haein didn’t care what ’Han Goyo’ was.

Whether he could be used, or not.

If it helped close a Trial with a True Ending, Mo Haein was ready to accept whatever that thing was.

"You worked hard, Captain."

The image of him greeting me suddenly came to mind.

His slightly smiling face had been that of an ordinary college student.

But Mo Haein pushed the memory out of her head.

That moment’s emotion had been genuine, but for now, it would only hinder her judgment.

As Mo Haein stared at the sleeping Han Goyo without blinking, Kwak Hanmuk, who had only been rolling his rosary beads, suddenly spoke.

"You said the Trial’s NPC showed a friendly attitude toward Han Goyo."

"Yeah."

"Did you ever try attacking Han Goyo with the Black Moon Blade?"

Mo Haein frowned at the out-of-nowhere nonsense, but Kwak Hanmuk was serious.

"No, I know it sounds fucking insane, but... I keep feeling it. My rosary."

Even he seemed to find it absurd as he let out a hollow laugh.

"It wants me to let him go."

Mo Haein’s lips parted.

Kwak Hanmuk pressed down on the rosary with his hand and looked at Han Goyo.

Since earlier, his rosary had been making his skin tingle and expressing dissatisfaction.

Kwak Hanmuk voiced the impossible hypothesis pressing down on his mind.

"Not just the Trial’s NPC.... Maybe even the items are friendly toward Han Goyo."

—

"Ngh...."

I swallowed a groan and opened my eyes.

A white ceiling. Looked like a hospital room.

...I wanted to wake up thinking that, but the scene before me was nothing like it.

Where I opened my eyes was an interrogation room. And I was strapped to a chair in a restraint suit.

’I’m in serious trouble.’

The TRA was under the Ministry of National Defense, so trials were held in a military court — but they were courts in name only.

Because of its special nature, it operated its own separate military court and the trial process was independent.

In short, if someone said, "This bastard is bad!" the TRA’s military judge would just slam down a detention or punishment on the spot.

At least the silver lining was that my injuries had been fully treated.

Confirming that the pain in my thigh had lessened considerably, I suddenly grew curious.

’Come to think of it, why didn’t Kwak Hanmuk get registered?’

A Captain like him was an important character with excellent abilities, so he seemed worth registering, but the System window saying "registrable character" hadn’t appeared.

You believe you must proceed with character registration carefully.

Because you currently have only ’3 slots’ available for registration.

You judge that it is still a bit early to fill a slot with ’Kwak Hanmuk.’ He might escape your ■■.

You want to increase your abilities as a System as soon as possible.

You think it would be good to try registering ’Mo Haein.’

A rigid answer came back to a light question. Roughly satisfied with my curiosity, I ignored the System window out of habit.

Just then, the closed door opened and a man in a TRA uniform walked in.

"Hello, Han Goyo-ssi."

The man, greeting me with a friendly smile, introduced himself.

"I am ■■■ from the Trial Response Agency."

I heard his name, but it was a character I didn’t know at all.

But what was the name again?

Even though I tried to recall it, the name I’d just heard wouldn’t come to mind.

The man looked at me, tied up like a cocoon, with a sympathetic expression.

"Very uncomfortable, aren’t you? If you cooperate well, I’ll have you untied right away."

I was full of willingness to cooperate. That was only natural, since I had nowhere to go.

’My meal ticket.’

If I got out of here, I’d be homeless. I tried my best to look as innocent as possible as I answered.

"Yes. Please take care of me."

The man sitting across from me checked his tablet for a moment, then smiled faintly.

"First... what does ’Roasted Chestnut’ mean?"

I, who had been ready to answer quickly, ended up asking back with a dumb look on my face.

"Huh?"

"Roasted Chestnut."

"Ah, Roasted Chestnut...."

I was flustered.

’How am I supposed to explain Roasted Chestnut?’

I wondered if this was some kind of interrogation technique too.

Not knowing what to do, I just blinked my eyes before hesitantly opening my mouth.

"It’s just Roasted Chestnut. You know, roasted chestnuts."

The atmosphere turned cold.

To show a more cooperative attitude, I scraped together everything I had and didn’t have to explain.

"My name is Han Goyo. You know the carol? ’Silent Night.’ At first, I was called ’Gobam.’ Then, while eating roasted chestnuts with my friends, ’Gobam’ turned into ’Gunbam’...."

God, this was pathetic.

The more I explained, the deeper I felt myself digging a hole.

But if I stopped now, it would seem even weirder.

"...My nickname changed. It was a familiar word, so I used the nickname ’Roasted Chestnut’ often on the internet and such."

When I played Archive’s games, I always set my player name to Roasted Chestnut.

"So, ’Roasted Chestnut’ is a nickname you chose yourself?"

"Yes."

"...."

The man was silent.

But I had nothing more to explain. I wanted to stop talking about Roasted Chestnut.

’Let’s move on to the next question.’

I was waiting quietly when he spoke.

"Trial names either represent an Adaptee’s characteristics or carry some symbolism."

The man stared at me.

It was a gaze trying to detect lies.

"And all those names are determined by the Trial."

I learned that for the first time.

I thought everyone just picked whatever name they wanted, like when starting a game.

I had played Archive’s games quite diligently, but the world-building explanations were always a bonus that came after the game’s ending.

As a player, there were bound to be things I didn’t know.

"There has never been a case, not once, where a self-chosen nickname with no characteristics or meaning, like yours, Han Goyo-ssi, was used in a Trial."

The man pushed his tablet toward me.

"In this <Happy Smile Factory>, there was another Adaptee besides Han Goyo-ssi whose name suffered an anomaly."

A photo of Park Seonggyeon was displayed on the tablet.

"Park Seonggyeon was given a completely different name, not the one he was usually assigned by the Trial."

In HapFactory, Park Seonggyeon’s nametag had read ’Sample.’

A System window immediately came to mind.

[’Park Seonggyeon’ is a registrable Sample character. Would you like to register?]

Sample, and Sample.

A naming so blatant it was practically begging to be noticed.

From the moment Park Seonggyeon entered HapFactory, he had been branded as a sample for me.

It was a decent selection, though.

Because the target was Park Seonggyeon, I had been able to choose Execution without much guilt or hesitation.

But the situation didn’t sit well with me.

Because I could feel the will of some entity that wanted me to develop my abilities as a System.

Anyway, the interrogation seemed to be a failure.

’I can’t really say my characteristic and symbolism is "Roasted Chestnut"....’

Leaving me feeling complicated, the man continued his questions.

"Han Goyo-ssi knew how to clear <Happy Smile Factory> with a True Ending. Is that correct?"

"It was a coincidence."

"Han Goyo was very skilled in boss battles, and knew a new strategy that even the Trial Response Agency didn’t know. He used this to achieve a True Ending."

The man chuckled and finished his statement.

"...That was Captain Mo Haein’s report."

"It really was a coincidence. It seemed similar to a game I usually liked, so I tried it and it worked out...."

"Why did you blow Park Seonggyeon’s head off?"

The man cut me off and asked. The question already assumed I was the one who did it.

I lied again.

"I don’t know anything about that."

The man let out a long sigh.

"Han Goyo-ssi."

"Yes."

"I’m telling you this because you seem unaware, but torture is legal in the Trial Response Agency."

I know that.... I really know that....

But that didn’t mean I could just admit it.

To properly confess, I’d have to say the unbelievable story that I came into the game, into the Archive world.

’Can’t I register that guy?’

For a brief moment, I entertained the fantasy of registering him and threatening him with Execution.

Beings that are not ■■ cannot yet be registered.

The System window popped up abruptly.

To hide that I was giving an awkward look at the square blocking my vision, I lowered my eyes as if scared.

’That damn black box.’

I couldn’t figure out why it was showing me something covered up. Then, as if it had been waiting, the System window added more.

Insufficient.

As if it couldn’t even be bothered to type the six syllables of ’your ability is insufficient,’ it sent just a single word. At this rate, it would be sending only the initial consonants next.

I was about to dismiss the System window when I looked at the black box with fresh eyes.

■■....

No way... a human?

The moment the word came to mind, a realization struck me hard.

One of the Trial Response Agency’s main characters.

A being created by South Korea to respond to the Trials, using items from the Trials.

Not human. An AI system android.

I called the man’s name.

"Samra Mansang."

At that moment, the man’s face, which I had thought was perfectly normal until just now, came into proper view.

The man’s face was painted black, as if someone had scribbled over it.

The moment I registered the dissonance, his dark TRA uniform turned white.

The paint covering his face peeled away smoothly, revealing the man’s true face.

Hair and irises that shimmered in holographic colors, shifting in real-time with the light.

The being with colors a human could never possess burst into laughter.

The space, which had been a dim interrogation room until a moment ago, transformed.

Massive walls with no end in height sprang up.

Walls made of every kind of monitor panel, smartphone, and tablet connected haphazardly.

Before that wall, where everything in the world played on different screens, was a chair with no backrest on an abnormally high platform.

Samra, seated on the chair, looked down at me.

"How did you know, Han Goyo-ssi?"